Post by outcast on Jan 6, 2021 17:39:55 GMT -6
The girls are half awake and half out of it. I try giving them a little shake trying to wake them, but it is to no avail. I think getting a glass of water from the master bath to splash on them may help, and when I walk into the bathroom, I see needles that have been used laying on the back of the toilet. This bathroom makes one at an all-night truck stop look clean. I see a cup with toothbrushes in it. I toss the brushes and fill the cup up with cold water. I splash it on one of the girls face and she seems to be coming around a bit.
I’m here to help you, do you know where the keys are?
Her drugged mumbles are inaudible, but she points down the hall. I’m assuming that Oscar has them on him or stashed in the living room. I go back to the living room and begin a frantic search for a set of keys, and while I’m unsuccessful I do find a 9mm under a couch cushion. This could prove problematic. I clear the chamber, and magazine, and get back to my frantic search.
I hear a moaning and see Oscar starting to stir. F**k Oscar what did you get me into? Shit, what did I get myself into? I grab Oscar by the shirt and lift him and shove him up against the refrigerator.
Where’s the f**king keys?
Ah man, f**k you.
A right hook finds Oscars guts. If I wasn’t holding him, he’d have been completely doubled over, but I lift him and shove him back against the Kenmore.
Just tell me where the f**king keys are.
Alright, alright.
I let Oscar go, and that was my mistake. Oscar takes a step forward, but then throws a surprise knee to my stomach. Normally I’d have shaken that right off, but my ribs are still busted to shit. I grab my stomach and bend over, and Oscar does exactly what I thought he would and goes for the 9mm.
Oscar pulls the Ruger from under the cushion and points it right at my head. F**k you Oscar, f**k you for pointing a gun at me, f**k you for having those girls chained up, and f**k you for being an overall piece of sh*t.
I charge Oscar, and as I do I hear the Ruger go click. Oscar didn’t check the chamber, and he can’t tell the difference in weight of a loaded and unloaded mag. That was his mistake. I drop my upper body, plant my shoulder in his stomach, and scoop his legs right behind the knees with my hands, a beautiful tackle on some Khalil Mack sh*t.
I hear the wheezing of Oscars breath escaping his lungs as the air is knocked from his chest. He falls on his back with a hard thud, and I am quickly on top of him. I reign down lefts and rights. It is hardly an even fight, I’m a professional fighter, and Oscar is a wannabe gang banger. But, f**k him, he deserves much worse than a broken nose and jaw.
I notice Oscars face is starting to resemble ground beef, and I stop my assault. It’s hard for someone to answer questions when they are unconscious, or worse yet, dead. I grab Oscar by the shirt and lift him a bit off of the ground while staying on top of him.
Where’s the key?
Ah, raugh… fa… f**k you.
I slam him against the ground, and lift him again. I repeat my question, and I hate repeating myself.
The Key, where is it?
It’s… it’s up your ass and around the corner.
Why the f**k do you have to make this so difficult Oscar? I slam him onto the ground twice more, and add a couple more right hands. He needed those like a Sundae needs a Cherry on top. This time I don’t even have to ask, he gives it up like a girl on prom night as soon as I stop my assault.
“Scarface”, he says as he points at the DVDs on his entertainment center. I release my grasp on him and stand up, making my ways to the DVDs. I find the Al Pacino classic, and open the DVD case and there inside of it are two smalls keys. Come on Oscar, even Tony Montana knew where to draw the f**king line.
I toss the case back onto the stack of DVDs, and as I look back at Oscar, I see he is back on all fours. I admire his tenacity, too bad everything else about him is shit. I take a few steps and plant a boot across the face of Oscar putting his lights out a second time. I then head down the hallway, but I’m stopped in my tracks at the sound of sirens. I move to the closest window and look outside to see several cruisers pulling up outside.
Do I know they are here for this situation? Do I know they are heading up the stairs to this apartment, and I’m about to be in a world of shit and have to figure out how I’m going to stay out of jail and keep a job? I can’t say yes, but in the middle of this is the last damn place I need to be, and the odds have never been in my favor.
Truth is this has all been pretty damn loud, and I’d be willing to bet dollars to donuts that they are heading up here right now. This place isn’t known for it’s thick walls, but it also isn’t known to house snitches either. Either way, I need to get out of here and I need out a.s.a.p.
I grab Oscars phone and delete our text and my call from his history, then I wipe it down removing my prints and toss it aside. Sure, Oscar is alive and can identify me, but who is going to give a shit what a human trafficker has to say? As for the girls, they are still too doped up to identify me, and I doubt they know who I am even if they weren’t out of it.
I’m not one hundred percent sure the cops are headed up here, but I’m sure enough. I move with purpose as I head into the bedroom and unchain the girls just incase the boys in blue are here to bust some other piece of shit that inhabits Garfield Park, of which there is no shortage. After unlocking the girls, I wipe the keys off and toss them on the bed. The girls are still out of it, and it will take a lot of fluids to get them back to a normal state of being,
I can hear a ruckus in the hall, it has to be the five-oh, and I got to get my ass out of here. This isn’t some domestic squabble with a jealous husband, this was some federal level shit that would get me dropped in a deep dark hole that I’d never crawl out of.
I pull my jacket sleeves over my hand and pull the window open and hop out onto the fire escape and shut the window behind me. I scope out the ally and confirm it is clear, maybe this wasn’t some intricately planned bust, and just cops getting called on a tussle. Either way, the ally is empty and I’m getting the hell out of Dodge.
I scurry down the fire escape and head down the ally back to my truck. I zip my jacket up and pull my collar of up again. I pull my beanie from my back pocket and slide it on, and then stick my hands into my jacket pocket and I feel the bottle of pills. I freeze as I grasp it in my hand. I reflect on everything that just happened, but only for a moment as I need distance from the scene and I need it now.
I head on to my truck and as I walk past a trashcan, I toss the bottle of pills in. I guess I needed this wake-up call.
But now your reign is over
And it's all up to me
I'm going to show you what I mean
Bury me with my guns on
So when I reach the other side
I can show him what it feels like to die
And it's all up to me
I'm going to show you what I mean
Bury me with my guns on
So when I reach the other side
I can show him what it feels like to die
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right. Because their words had forked no lightning, they do not go gentle into that good night.
Raging Dead, we are two… well let’s not use the O word (old), let’s call us long in the tooth. Two individuals who are both long in the tooth. You claim to be from hell, and while I call bullshit, I do know that when I finally lay down for the long dirt nap, I will be headed to hell myself. I have written specifically in my last will and testament to bury me with my wrestling boots on, that way when I get down there, I can shove my boot up Satan’s ass for all the hell he put me through here on Earth.
I make no qualms about where I am going when I die, but I will not go easy. I will go kicking and clawing for survival, I will rage, rage against the dying of my light. But you, you are the dying of that light, aren’t you Raging Dead? You are death RAGING THROUGH THE NIGHT! Well, I will not go silently into that night, just as when I die death will have to throw everything it has at me to take me, YOU, will have to throw everything you have at me to take my championship. I will rage against the dying of championship light; I will rage against you Raging Dead.
Or…
Is it all bullshit?
I think it is.
You are nothing but flesh and bone, a meer mortal man just like me and everyone else in the GCWA. Ha, what a f**king place this is. We have dead men, space aliens, ghosts, quantum leapers, men reincarnated as women, trannies, and billionaires. You know what I think though? I think GCWA is ripe with people who are full of shit and are clinging at anything they can to try and make themselves special, something that makes them stand out.
Well, none of you are f**king special, you are all just flesh and bone, and I fear no one made of what I am made of. I fear no man, no woman, and no insert your f**king pronoun here born of their mother. And while Raging Dead may have been shit on a stump and hatched by the sun, I’m willing to bet it was his mother who shit on that stump.
Rage on out of hell, or more accurately rage out of your van down by the river and bring all that rage into Inferno. Just know that with all your sound and fury you signify nothing. You are nothing special, none of us our special, and I will show that when I defeat you in the middle of the ring just like I have everyone else I have stepped into the ring with since my return. You will fall just like every man that has come before you and every man, woman, or somewhere in-between the two that will come after you.
That isn’t me claiming to be special, not in the least. I’m just dirt molded into life like the rest of us, and when I die my body will return to the dirt and my soul will go onto hell. My mission, while I’m on this rock standing vertical is to take as many of you mother**kers with me as I can. While I may not believe you Raging Dead when you say that you are from hell, you better believe me when I tell you that you and I are going to hell on Friday night. I will drag you there kicking and screaming, and with all your sound and fury you will be nothing more than just another poor lost soul consumed by the lake of fire. And me, I’ll still be the Unified X-Division champion, and I’ll still be the Outcast.